Sinful Smile
by FieryFafar
Summary: The next thing you did next was painful. But what you had done to her was completely, utterly excruciating.


_Snip, snip_, the scissors went.

_Slich, slash,_ the needle pierced.

He stood motionlessly, his arms and fingers being the only parts that moved. The needle, metallic and sharp, tore through his skin, slicing open little holes from his upper lip. Purple dripped from its gruesome tip, trickling down the cold object, then trailing on much colder flesh.

_Drip, drip,_ the blood dropped.

_Slich, rip, _his skin tore.

The needle again pierced through his closed mouth, tracing down until it reached the inside of his lower lip. Without hesitance or fear, he gave a little push, enabling the sharp pin to puncture through his flesh like paper.

More blood oozed out, even showing tiny chunks of flesh sticking on the metallic item.

He continued this little 'ritual', eyes showing neither emotion nor care in the world. It was dead. His irises were a dark purple, wide even, but death and emptiness could only be seen as his hands moved. His lips, straightened to a single line as if it was being forcefully pulled, stayed horribly still.

His other hand reached for the scissors on the table, but instead, his fingers felt something wet – wetter than the thick blood that coated his every skin. It was soft to the touch, gooey even as he gently pressed it without notice. Body as if acting on its own free will, his fingers caressed the material, its bottom leading to a tip while its top was wider with jagged, squishy lines.

He then stopped, a part of his brain finally waking up to tell him what he was touching.

A tongue – _his _tongue– sprawled on the table.

He froze. His fingers flinched. His eyes gave the faintest of cringes.

* * *

_I'M SORRY._

He apologized for the thousandth time, but he knew, no matter how terrifying it was, she would never hear his apology. Even if he screamed it at the top of his lungs, she could never hear him – not ever again.

_I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY_ _I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY_ _I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY_ _I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY!_

He tried to scream – wanted to – but he knew that would only worsen the fatal damage.

_I'M SORRY. PLEASE…PLEASE FORGIVE ME…_

He hugged her in his arms. Pools of olive blood dripped around them. Her black, beautiful hair that cascaded down her spine was now tainted in the revolting colour. Like a brush, it painted her body and face green, along with his fingers that didn't cease from caressing her back.

She laid her head on his chest. Her hands had been cupping her bloody ears for minutes. She had stopped shaking. Her mouth had stopped whimpering. Although said, tears were still trailing down her closed eyes, tracing her cheeks until it dropped and combined with the foul liquid that was her blood.

He had no right to be near her. And he knew that. He had no right to be touching her. And he knew that. He had no right to even breathe the same air as her. And he motherfucking new that.

_I'M…SORRY…PLEASE…_

And yet, his face fell on top of her head. His eyes were stained with his own tears, vision soon blurry from the constant anguish that he felt. The hug tightened, bringing her closer as he comforted his poor matesprit.

It was his fault. It was his fault that she was now in pain. It was his fault that she was now trapped in a sound of pure void. It was his fault that he gave her this nightmare; a nightmare to never hear the miracles of life ever again.

It was his fault.

_I'M…SOR…RY…_

Shutting his eyes, he angrily bit his tongue. He felt the flesh, the accursed chunk that took away her fate. Rage then took over his grief. Anger then boiled in the bottom pits of his heart to feel his tongue wildly grazing against his sharp teeth.

The next thing he did next was painful. But what he had done to her was completely, utterly excruciating.

* * *

_Snip!_ That single sound was a wake-up call for him.

Finally, he stopped. Kurloz placed the needle down; its little metallic body now drowned in the colour of deep purple. Both hands now had something to touch. One was hard while the other was soft. But one thing was for sure: both were dead cold – lifeless.

A few minutes past, and he didn't move a single muscle.

His mouth felt numb, which was oddly funny to him. It stayed in a perfectly straight line, held by black strings that were sewn perfectly tight from left to right. His lips were now dry and pale, torn even by the pin's point, now revealing little holes of violet goo.

His right hand moved to his face, wanting to touch his mouth, wanting to feel the thin strings that would be attached on his skin for life.

But instead, he went to his eyes, feeling more tears flowing down the back of his fingers, feeling the sorrow and guilt that choked his throat.

_I'M…SORRY…_

Finally, both hands cupped his face. Emotion broke from his eyes. Tears continued to trail like a murderous stream. Not a cry was heard, not one that could be verbalized properly. Instead, a muffled, forced sob echoed through the tiniest holes of the strings.

Kurloz fell to his knees, elbows dropping on the floor as his hands stayed on his face.

_I'M…VERY…SORRY…_

_**END.**_

**0-0-0**

**i wanted to write this for 84 years ever since kurlin was introduced  
thankfully Carousel by Circus Contraption helped me wrote it thank**


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